


what i really need

by professortennant



Series: Longmire Season One Post-Eps [2]
Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: "I talk to people all day long, Cady. What I could really use is a break from all the talking." Vic knows Walt needs a break from all the talking and shows up on his front porch with a six-pack of Rainiers and a plan. Post-ep for 1.01.





	what i really need

Walt frowned as the sound of someone knocking on the door echoed through the house. It was mid-day and he’d gone home early after wrapping up their last case, leaving the department in the hands of his deputies. 

It had been simultaneously the hardest and easiest thing in the world to return to work-- _really_  return to work and take control, to lead his deputies and take point on a case. And then that notification, that whiff of perfume and the slam of memories. Being blindsided by Branch running against him had rattled him, betrayal and anger settling in his gut. 

The knocking at his door became more insistent and he closed his eyes and groaned with the realization that whoever it was at his front door wasn’t going to go away. 

Grumbling under his breath and eyeing the shotgun leaning by the door with serious consideration, Walt pulled open the front door with admonishment on the tip of his tongue.

And then he saw who was at the door: Vic. 

Vic, with a fresh six-pack of Rainier in one hand and a pair of thick, heavy-duty leather work gloves in the other. He sighed and leaned against the door jamb. 

“Didn’t I leave you in charge of Branch and the Ferg?”

“You did,” she said with a bright, wolfish smile. “And then I thought that sounded boring and coming over here and bugging you sounded much more fun.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, seeing straight through her. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Vic.”

 “Great, me neither.” She blew past him, inviting herself into his home and heading for the kitchen, depositing the beer into his refrigerator. 

Walt followed her, leaving the door open behind him. As much as he enjoyed and even appreciated Vic’s company, he was in no mood to entertain. He could feel a foul mood settling over him and he didn’t want Vic caught up in the crossfire.

“Vic,” he started. “Listen--”

“Ah! I don’t wanna hear whatever placating shit is about to come out of that mouth. You don’t wanna talk. I don’t wanna talk. But you sure as shit aren’t going to be alone right now, alright? So go get your damn gloves, shut up, and and can we  _please_  add stairs to your fucking porch?”

He blinked at her. “Stairs?”

She huffed. “Yes, Walt.  _Stairs._  Traditionally the things at the end of your porch so you don’t force your favorite deputy to jump-- _jump_ , Walt--on and off of it.”

Unwittingly, he found himself smiling in the face of her attitude.

“Why didn’t you say something? I woulda put out a step ladder for you, Vic,” he teased, grabbing his own pair of gloves off the kitchen table and gesturing over his shoulder towards the front porch. 

“A step ladder? That’s cute, Walt. Real cute.”

He shot her a coy smile and tugged his hat on low over his eyes, allowing Vic to bump her shoulder against his on the front porch. For a moment, he simply inhaled and let the sun and breeze brush across his skin. 

“Let’s get to work, cowboy.”

He opened his eyes and met Vic’s and felt himself become grounded, letting the case fall from his shoulders. He nodded once and led Vic around to the shed where the lumber for his front steps was waiting. 

In unison and silence, they worked together under the rapidly setting Wyoming sun. Only the sounds of Vic’s occasional grunts as she hauled up an armful of wood or whacked enthusiastically with a hammer and mallet where Walt gestured for her to do so. 

The frame for the stairs came together fairly quickly and Walt allowed himself a moment to simply  _look_  at his deputy. In the six months that Vic had come into his life, she had done just this: shown up and dragged him, sometimes kicking and screaming, out of the hole of depression and self-deprecation he’d dug for himself. 

He cleared his throat as Vic held the boards of the step they were building together, keeping his eyes on the way her fingers gripped the joints. 

“I, uh, I think I may have let you down, Vic. You and Ferg and--and Branch.” 

It cost him something to admit as such. But he couldn’t ignore Branch’s words from earlier:  _absentee sheriff._

“You didn’t let anyone down. Christ, Walt, your wife  _died_. You can take as much time as you want. Branch is just a jealous little shit.” She huffed. “Look, we handled it, alright? Besides, I thought you didn’t wanna talk? So, shut the fuck up and hammer this nail.”

That was Vic, he thought to himself. If he had misstepped--really misstepped with her--she’d let him know it. He took comfort in her brushing his concerns and the starts of a half-hearted apology.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, tapping at the head of the nail with his mallet. 

They continued working together in relative silence--a more than welcome break from the talking he’d done all day--until the stairs to his front porch were put together and formed. 

Vic climbed up the few steps and stopped and sat on the top step, pulling her gloves off with a groan, and wiping at the line of sweat along her brow. 

Walt tapped her knee with his gloved hand and stood, heading into the house. “Don’t move.”

A few minutes later, he came back out with a couple of the Rainiers in hand that Vic had brought over. “Here,” he grunted, handing her the cold beer. 

“God, yes,” she said, popping the tab of the can and taking a few long, deep gulps. Without conscious thought, he studied the tendons of her neck and the drops of bead rolling down her nape. 

She caught his eye and put the half-drunken beer in her lap, wiping at her mouth with a wary look. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He tilted his head and surveyed her from beneath the brim of his hat. He wasn’t sure who or what brought her into his life or how they knew when to bring her to Absaroka County and barreling into his department, but he remained forever grateful that it happened and that she was there. 

Leaning back next to her, shoulder and knee bumping against hers, he drained his own beer and surveyed his land on the steps that he and Vic had spent all afternoon creating together. 

“Thanks, Vic,” he said gruffly, voice thick with gratitude. 

“For what?”

“For giving me a break.”

There was a beat and then Vic leaned over and clinked her can against his, settling beside him and watching the land with him.

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> yay! i am starting a longmire rewatch and will be adding post-eps to relevant episodes as I watch.


End file.
